


Wild

by marythewriter



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Mermaids, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Shifters, Supernatural Elements, Urban Fantasy, Vampires, Were-Creatures, Werecats, Werewolves, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-13 17:43:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16022813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marythewriter/pseuds/marythewriter
Summary: Paris - along with the rest of the world - is rocked by the revelation that humans are not the only people occupying the planet.Marinette, though remaining determined to protect all citizens of Paris, is shocked beyond belief.Chat Noir is surprised too, at first. But suddenly, armed with knowledge of a hidden world, pieces of his past begin to fall into place.As the heroes are Paris are thrust into supernatural complications, secrets are revealed and the two young adults are forced to find themselves.





	1. The Tiny People in the Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The incident inside of the closet.

He is small. He is five. He is scared.

Father and Maman are fighting again.

They're in their bedroom and he is sitting just outside of it.

"Adrien," says Nathalie. "I advise that you return to your bedroom."

Her voice is shaking, as this is the first fight that has escalated to such heights. Emilie and Gabriel usually kept their quarrels to vocal slurs, punches, or chokeholds.

But this? Adrien has never heard them do this before. There are sounds coming through the bottom of the door - deep and guttural and roaring. He hears things crashing and there's a thickness to the air - blood, actually. He's starting to smell blood.

Even Nathalie is scared, and she's never scared. In the past, she has remained the perfect image of poise and perfection: looking at Adrien as if he were silly for crying about Maman's broken leg or Father's black eye. But this time, she is scared. He knows because she is shaking ever so slightly, and her voice doesn't hold the authority it usually does as she pleads with Adrien to _please go back_ to his room.

But this fighting is weird, and different. He feels something in the air - it makes his skin crawl and his stomach starts to turn.

And so he stays in the hallway, if for anything, to find out what's going on in that room.

There's a bang, and an animalistic roar, and the shattering of glass.

" _Keeping it a secret my ass_."

Adrien whips around to see Nathalie shaking her head in disbelief.

He feels itchy and weird, and the novelty of mystery has started to wear off. All he can think to say is, "That's a bad word."

Nathalie turns to him with pursed lips. "There are no such things as bad words."

Her voice is icy and it shuts him up just as quickly as she'd intended. He looks at the master bedroom door one more time, and listens. After a couple more seconds of muffled growling, he decides he's heard enough.

Adrien slowly stands and begins to walk away, Nathalie's eyes carefully trained on his back.

His brain hearts from thinking and his bones heart for no good reason and his heart hurts because he _just wants everyone to stop getting so angry_.

When he reaches his bedroom, he turns all of the lights off. It is past midnight and dark outside, but he wants it dark. He doesn't want to look at anything, because looking means thinking, and his brain still hurts.

He grabs a woven blanket from his bed and clutches it with tiny hands white with terror. He takes it all the way around his room and through the closet to the very back, where all of his winter coats and sheets are stored.

He climbs behind the hanging garments until he is in the very back corner, where he sits himself down. His back is pressed against the wall and the fabric hanging in front of him acts as a protective wall.

He wraps himself in the blanket, so tight that he can hardly breathe.

Then, he looks up at the darkness around him and starts to count.

"One, Two, Three -"

The wind is howling outside. He likes storms; he thinks he'd rather be out in the elements.

"Four, Five, Six-"

The walls creek as the heating system turns on. Water rushes down the pipes woven in the sheetrock. He wonders what it looks like inside of the pipes. Is it like being in a waterslide?

"Seven, Eight, Nine-"

Perhaps there are tiny people inside the walls, and the water pipes are like Disneyland. He bets they're having lots of fun.

"Ten, Eleven, Twelve-"

He bets the people in the walls live in little borrows made of insulation. They probably sleep when he sleeps, and dance when he plays his music.

"Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen-"

He bets their parents never fight.

"Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen -"

Counting usually makes him feel better, but it isn't helping this time. The air is too thick and his mind just keeps moving, no matter how much he tells it to stop. His brain continues to hurt.

"Nineteen, Twenty -"

Adrien feels ill. Not the normal ill he feels when his parents are upset. This sickness is new. It spreads all around him and he feels weird. He's very dizzy and suddenly very hot.

He tries to get his blanket off, but it seems to be glued to his skin.

He thrashes and wiggles, but he can't figure out how to get it off because _why is the room spinning like that?_

He starts to scream, but he's forgotten all of his words and all that comes out is garbled nonsense.

Something is happening and he doesn't like it one bit.

The air gets thick like it did outside of the master bedroom. Somewhere deep in is mind, he wonders if the same thing that's happened to his parents is happening to him, too.

He never gets to find out, because six breaths later, he falls unconscious.

\- - -

He wakes up in a big metal room. A scary man stands over him and scribbles things onto a paper.

Briefly, he wonders if he is dead and in the afterlife. Or perhaps, _he narrows his eyes_ , he's been shrunken down tiny and he's living with the people in the walls.

The man sighs and turns away from Adrien to say "He's up, if you'd like to speak to him."

There's a clicking of heels and a sharp chinned, angry blonde woman scowls down at him. _Maman is angry_.

"Adrien," she says, as if to state a fact.

He tries to respond, but his throat is too dry, so he just blinks up at her.

Footsteps echo from the other side of the bed, and Father - Gabriel - too looms over him.

For a brief moment, his parents meet each other's eyes to share some sort of message. When they break apart, they both peer down at Adrien.

"You had a modeling accident," says Gabriel. "The light fell and hit you. But you're okay now."

Adrien squirms, noticing the itchy gown around him. "I was at home. In my closet."

"You had a modeling accident," repeats Gabriel.

"But I was in my room. How could I-"

Maman - Emilie - snaps her head towards him. "You were in a modeling accident."

He's confused. He hasn't had a photo shoot in quite a while. He remembers what happened - well, sort of. Something about blankets and tiny people in the walls. But Maman and Father know best, so he nods in agreement.

They eventually lead him out of a big grey building and into the waiting car. As he walks from a wheelchair to the door, his legs feel wobbly and wrong. He doesn't understand how a light could've done this to him.

He is only five, but he is smart - smart enough to know that if he wants to survive in the Agreste manor, he should stop asking questions and keep his mouth shut.


	2. Birthday Party of the Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien is turning eighteen and Marinette is getting nervous.

Adrien blinks into the mirror and stands up a bit straighter. He swallows and narrows his eyebrows at his reflection. One of his hairs is out of place. That’s not good.

Someone knocks at the bathroom door.

“Occupied,” he says, because he’s not ready just yet.

The unknown person walks away, presumably back to the ballroom, where lights are flashing and music will soon be booming.

Adrien takes a deep breath. It’s just a party.

It’s just a party. It’s just a party. It’s just a party.

It’s just a party, at a venue. A venue called _l'heure_.

A venue called _l'heure_ with multiple rooms and multiple events each night.

A venue in which, last night, on patrol, Ladybug mentioned she would be visiting for a party.

A party on the same day at his party. At the same venue.

 _Obviously_ they’re meant to find each other tonight. If this isn’t fate, then what is it?

Someone knocks on the door again, and he whips around. “Occupied!” he cries.

He can’t go out like this! _Not when there’s a chance he could run into Ladybug!_

He tries to smooth his hair down, but it just won’t settle. Why won’t it settle?!

Just when he’s about to scream out in anguish, his phone buzzes from inside the pocket of his _Gabriel: The Label_ suit.

**Nino** _20:56_      **we’re here. setting up now. place is sick, dude**

By some miracle, father has allowed his classmates to attend his big birthday bash. Whether it’s a result of father-son love or an attempt to woo the paparazzi waiting outside ( _Breaking: Adrien Agreste Spends Time With Ordinary People_ ), he doesn’t care. He hasn’t had a party with friends since he turned thirteen, and Nino got akumatized then. Luckily, this year Nino has been given a better sentence: DJ.

Back in his collège days, when he’d been smack dab in the middle of puberty, the world of akumas had been so new and exiting to him. How many other boys got to prance around rooftops, saving the day with a beautiful girl? Not many, he’d assumed. When Plagg, the tiny, god-like creature had first approached him with news of a great danger, Adrien had failed to feel any fear.

But the older they get, things are becoming harder. Citizens are no longer akumatized because of slight misunderstandings or missed trains. Now, akuma victims are the sufferers of loss, grief, and agonizing pain.

The battles are scarier and it’s getting more difficult for ladybug to purify the cursed butterflies each time. Adrien is getting new scars at a rate faster than ever, and he isn’t sure how long it’ll be before one monster actually kills him.

But tonight, he’ll focus on the good things. Like Nino, and Alya, and Marinette, and _yes, even Chloe_.

Oh, and the most good of all: Ladybug.

He grins. Suddenly, the blonde lock of hair that continues to fall straight across his forehead doesn’t seem to be such an issue any more.

He turns around and walks out of the restroom.

————————————————

When Adrien reaches the DJ Booth, Nino turns away from the two girls behind him to tackle Adrien in a hug. “Dude!” he cries. “You’re eighteen!”

Adrien grins and nods sheepishly. “I know, I know. I’m excited, believe me.”

Alya - who’s been standing behind Nino - shoves her way foreword and affectionately smacks him on the chest. “So, finally old enough to escape your dick of a dad, huh?” She’s loud and swaying - probably did a bit of pre-partying, if Adrien is guessing.

Marinette, having been hidden behind her friend, she grabs Alya’s wrist and smiles apologetically at Adrien. “His father is paying for this party,” she reminds Alya, who stumbles back a bit.

Alya rolls her eyes and saunters off toward the bar, a feisty red gown trailing behind her.

Nino winks at Marinette, who blushes. “I’m gonna go finish setting up the turntables,” he says, and turns away.

Adrien turns to Marinette, who, in his humble opinion, looks to be the epitome of class in a sleek navy gown and simple silver heels. Not that Nino’s polka-dotted tie isn’t classy. It’s just… interesting.

“I’m… just going to run to the restroom before the party gets started,” Marinette smiles. “Is that alright with you?” She looks up at Adrien with wide, concerned eyes.

He nods and straightens up a bit. “Of course, Mari. Whatever you need to do.”

————————————————

Marinette sighs down into her palms, sitting on a closed toilet seat and shaking her head.

It’s Adrien’s birthday, and she would be - _should be_ \- celebrating, but she’s been a bit distracted since last night’s patrol. After all, she’d let slip to Chat Noir that her civilian self would be attending a party at _l’heure_.

She trusts her partner - how could she not? They’ve shared countless near-death experiences, and he’s always been right by her side. However, her superhero counterpart has been more than eager to discover her secret identity, and she can’t help but look around the room with great fear that a young, mischievous blonde man might be poking around.

Luckily, the only blonde she’s seen so far is Adrien, which means the coast is clear for now.

“Marinette?”

A small, spirit-like shape of scarlett color floats up into her peripheral. Tikki - Marinette’s kwami, a magical diety granting her the power to become Ladybug - blinks up at her. “Is everything alright?”

Marinette nods. “I guess I’m just feeling a bit off,” she confesses. “Like when there’s an akuma, or something.” She looks around the still-empty bathroom before continuing. “But I know that’s ridiculous, because I swept the skyline only half an hour ago, and there was nothing, and I guess the fact that Chat Noir knows where I am tonight is really getting to me because-“

“Woah, calm down, Marinette. There’s no akuma,” Tikki reminds her. “And you know that Chat Noir would never deliberately find out your identity against your wishes.”

Marinette sighs. Tikki is right, and she’s being ridiculous. Besides, tonight is about Adrien - she should be focusing on him! “So I really have nothing to worry about?”

“Well…” Tikki’s brow furrows.

Marinette blinks. “ _‘Well’_ what?” Is something wrong? Something serious?

Tikki sighs. “I’m sensing magical energy,” she explains, “And as Ladybug, you must be sensing it too. It would explain why you’re so on edge.”

Marinette frowns. Magical energy? “So there _is_ an akuma?”

Tikki shakes her head and sighs. “This doesn’t feel like Hawkmoth. Or any of the kwami, actually. In fact, this feels just like when-“ the creature cuts off, frowning.

Marinette blinks and furrows her brows. “What is it?” She doesn’t like the vibe she’s getting from Tikki. In fact, her stomach is beginning to churn as her mind conjures possible explanations. An alien invasion? The apocalypse?

The little red creature shakes her too-large head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m probably wrong, anyway. Let’s just head out to the party. I’m sure Alya is waiting for you.”

Marinette wants to protest, but ultimately decides that Tikki, the immortal being, gets to call the shots on this one. “More like Alya needs a designated driver,” she says, standing up and brushing off her purse as Tikki flies into it.


	3. Worst Birthday Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien's party is not going how he thought it would.

Adrien watches the party as it plunges into high gear. Dozens of C-list celebrities circle through _l’heure_ , but he can’t seem to recognize any of them. Is that the girl who played Tom Hank’s cousin last year? Or was she in that cleaning supply commercial?

He supposes he should be interacting with all of his guests, but they’re his father’s guests, really. Besides, he can tell some of them don’t even know who’s party it is as they walk past him without so much as a ‘bonjour’.

That’s alright, though. He doesn’t want to talk anyway. Not with the awful feeling growing inside of his stomach and seeping out into his limbs. His bones ache and his skin itches, so he decides to take off his blazer and just stick with the purple undershirt. But his shirt feels way too tight, even though he’s sure it fits him perfectly. It’s stuffy in here, too, and he can’t remember if it’s been hot all evening or if the temperature rose suddenly.

An elderly gentleman, one of the original investors of his father’s brand _Gabriel: The Label_ approaches Adrien to shake his hand, and the freshly-turned eighteen year old grimaces. He’s experienced these symptoms before - he’s been fine then and he’ll be fine now.

They shake hands, and after a moment of conversation, the elderly man - Monsieur Aravois - takes leave. Adrien breathes. Luckily, Aravois had seemed none the wiser to Adrien’s incessant fidgeting.

Adrien watches a flood of models sweep through the entryway, having just arrived. He’s done shoots with them before and knows it’s expected that he greet them, but the room is spinning and he’s swaying a bit.

He should’ve guessed that, with his luck, his symptoms would occur tonight. After all, an evening of peace and celebration was just too much to ask for as the boy who literally yielded a god of destruction.

“Adrien, you look ill.”

He turns around to see the sharp jaw and disapproving gaze of his father, Gabriel, and looks down. “Sorry. Post-trauma seizure again, I think.”

Gabriel purses his lips and stares at Adrien with icy eyes. “How very unfortunate,” he says, before turning and walking away.

The encounter leaves a bad taste in Adrien’s mouth, and he wants to scream out in frustration. They both know it isn’t Adrien’s fault.

He has his seizures monthly. He’s had them since he was five and he’ll probably have them until the day he dies.

They started after an incident when he was a child - a large light came down on him during a photo-shoot. He can’t remember the modeling accident, but he supposes the trauma must have been enough to induce amnesia. When he was a kid the incident had confused him to great lengths, and he had frequent hallucinations, about being swept from suffocating by way of blanket in his closet, to arriving at adoctor’s office, where he awoke after the injury.

Maman and Father hadn’t talked much about the incident - just explained that there were lasting side effects. That every so often, he would feel numb and itchy and dizzy all over again, just like he remembers feeling as he hid in his closet - well, how he felt when he thought he was in his closet, but was apparently on set at a photo-shoot. Whatever - the details don’t matter anyway.

Every couple of weeks, the symptoms would come by force, leaving him to toss and turn in bed as mansion employees stood around him under Gabriel’s command. He doesn’t remember a lot of what happens during his seizures - he usually passes out a few hours in, and wakes up feeling strange hours later. What happens during those hours, he isn’t sure.

It sucks to no end that one of his chronic incidents would surface the night of his eighteenth birthday - the one party his actual friends are permitted to attend, on the night he’s finally released from the legal grip of Gabriel Agreste. Luckily, he knows he won’t pass out for at least a few more hours, leaving plenty of time for him to party the night away.

“Hey, how’s it going so far?” Marinette approaches, having returned from the restroom. She smiles at him, and he wills himself to ignore the dull pain inside his body and just enjoy the company.

“Pretty good, so far. I don’t know how much of this party is… to my taste, but I’m really glad you guys were able to come.” And he truly is glad they’re here. The presence of familiar faces is really helping him ignore the confusing societal requirements of the upper class plaguing the venue.

She grins and nods to the dance floor where their two friends are currently stationed. “I think Nino is having the time of his life. This is his first professional gig, you know.”

She turns to Adrien as she speaks, and he in turn faces the dance floor as he watches Nino playing with the sound mixers. Adrien grins wide. “He really is having a great time, huh?” He notices several partygoers breaking it down on the floor and turns back to Marinette. “Everyone seems to be loving the music, too.”

Marinette laughs and points to one fiery girl in particular. “I think I’ve just spotted his biggest fan,” she says, gesturing toward Alya, whose brown hair is flying around as she hops and wiggles around to the music in a drunken display of affection toward Nino.

 

—————

 

Marinette’s heart soars as Adrien laughs at Alya’s antics. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the worrisome tug of apprehension continues to take hold of her thoughts, but she’s glad to be here anyway. Especially seeing that look on his face - wide eyes, crooked smile, and a giggle that oozed exuberance.

In this moment, she remembers why she’s had her heart stuck on Adrien Agreste since collège. Surrounded by a party of luxury and aristocracy, he manages to be most enchanted with their school friends, because that’s the great guy he is.

Apparently, Marinette isn’t the only one who thinks Adrien is a great guy, because a golden mermaid-style dress flies in front of her. “Oh, Adrien!” cries Chloe, blonde hair swept into a braided crown. As the daughter of Paris’ mayor, Chloe can be quite entitled at times, and Marinette reminds herself that it isn’t Chloe’s fault that she was spoiled rotten as a child.

But when Chloe turns away from Adrien and scowls as she looks Marinette up and down, the darker-haired girl finds her civil smile turning into an awkward grimace.

“Oh,” says Chloe. “You’ve been hanging out with Marinette,” she realizes as she frowns at Adrien.

“Is there a problem with that?” Marinette’s smile can only be described as passive-aggressive as the two girls attempt to smile politely whilst simultaneously smiting eachother.

Adrien looks between them with great fear, and wisely begins to back away from the staring competition.

Marinette is about to say something about the way Chloe is looking at her shoes when a large group of foreigners enter the ballroom. The whole party seems to stop and listen to the thick Scandinavian dialect being spoken by the group of newcomers. There’s about fifteen of them - they’re all blonde adults with angry expressions and clear distaste toward the occasion, dragging their feet and making a ruckus.

Chloe makes an angry noise. “Who are they?”

Marinette turns to Adrien, also eager to find out.

Adrien opens and closes his mouth, furrowing his brows. “I can’t - it’s been forever, but - I think that’s -“

“Who?” cries Chloe,her impatience getting the best of her.

“Maman’s family,” says Adrien, darkened expression turned to the floor.

Marinette freezes. Adrien’s mother had always been a sore spot of conversation. She knew that his mother had disappeared when Adrien was only twelve, but she doesn’t know how or why it happened. What confuses her most, however, is the way Adrien looks at the incoming group in wonder. “Do they visit often?” she asks quietly.

Adrien shakes his head and slips his blazer on. “Haven’t even seen them since I was really little. I don’t know - I can’t - they didn’t - my father, and - not sure if they ever liked me, because-" A jumble of words comes pouring out of his mouth as he blinks at the surprise guests, and Marinette finds herself - along with Chloe - stepping forward to block him from prying eyes.

“Did you know they were coming?” asks Chloe, bratty attitude having been replaced with one of great concern.

“No, I… Father doesn’t keep in contact with them. I just… why are they here?” Adrien is looking around wildly at this point, most likely trying to locate said father.

Marinette feels her stomach start to churn again, the feeling of evil magic washing over her once more. She doesn’t know much about Adrien’s home life, but she has a feeling his history is complicated. She understands - lot’s of people have a complex past. What she doesn’t understand is why this is happening on his birthday, a day of the year supposedly set aside for well-wishers.

—————-

Adrien is pretty sure the arrival of his distance relatives has increased the speed of his oncoming seizure symptoms, because as Marinette and Chloe start questioning, his mind goes from simply rotating to spinning out of control.

He saw Maman’s family very rarely as a child. They didn’t like that Emilie left Sweden to marry Gabriel. They didn’t like that she left them behind. At least, that’s what he’s heard from eavesdropping on his bodyguards as a child. Maman didn’t talk about them. Maman didn’t talk about a lot of things.

It hurt him incredibly when she left for a trip and never returned.

Sure, she fought with father. Sure, she roughly tugged at him when she was angry. Sure, she whispered mean things into his little ears in exchange for good behavior. But sometimes, late at night, when the wind was howling and she’d finished sparring with Gabriel, she’d climb into bed with him and give him the only affection he ever received. Little kisses, big hugs. Whispered renditions of nursery rhymes and promises that _tomorrow, we’ll stop fighting. Tomorrow, we’ll be happy_.

Her promises never came true, of course. And more often then not, her motherly affection turned into something else. Touching him in places he didn’t want to be touched. Pinching him until he told her what she wanted to hear. Stripping him of his pajamas and critiquing every flaw portrayed by his small figure.

But sometimes she was nice. And he misses that, even though it’s wrong.

“Adrien? Are you alright?”

He blinks furiously and momentarily forgets where he is.

Oh, that’s right. A party - his party. And… Maman’s family is here? And the music is suddenly very loud?

“Adrien?”

Someone is talking to him. He should probably answer. He peers down at Marinette, who is tugging at his sleeve in an attempt to warn him of an approaching man.

He’s tall with blonde-hair-turned-silver and he has a crooked scowl as he speaks in a heavy Swedish accent. “Hello. I would be Nikolas Larsson. And you would be Adrien Larsson Agreste, ja?”

Adrien nods slowly. He hasn’t even been told his mother’s maiden name until this very moment: _Larsson_. “Yes, uh, I am. Welcome to Paris,” he says, because what else is he supposed to say?

The man looks Adrien up and down and cocks his head to the side. “You aren’t looking very nicely, ja? You aren’t feeling very nicely?”

Adrien winces. Is it that obvious? He’s doing his best to hide how ill he feels. “Oh, I’m okay. Just an accident when I was a child.” He ignores the confused looks he gets from Chloe and Marinette. He really can’t deal with looking at more than one person right now.

The old man blinks and then bursts out laughing. “Is that what they told ya?” He cackles and throws his head back.

Adrien is more confused than ever. “I’m sorry?” he says, surely having missed a vital part of the exchange.

Adrien notices that, during their brief conversation, the rest of the blonde tribe have circled around the old man, laughing along with him. He sees Marinette narrowing her eyes in anger, no doubt ready to protect him from whatever is going on.

The old man opens his mouth to speak, but a little old lady grabs his arm. “Do not waste a bother on him,” she says in broken French. She looks Adrien in the eye before saying “He’s only a halfie, after all.”

This sets of another wave of laughter from the group. Surely this is a nightmare conjured by Adrien’s imagination. There’s no way this is real.

He starts to sway a bit as Chloe steps forward. “Hey, you guys! I don’t know what any of that means, but you better knock it off, buddies!” Adrien is shocked to see Marinette agreeing with something that has come from Chloe’s mouth. “She’s right. It’s his birthday!”

“Ah. The Larssons. How… kind of you to travel all the way from Sweden to celebrate my son’s birthday,” says Gabriel, entering the conversational group.

As his maternal relatives begin conversation with Gabriel, Adrien takes this as his opportunity to escape the situation. Turning on his heel, he runs off to the nearest waiter. Panting, he braces his hands on his knees as the poor employee awaits his request. “Tell the chef to start sending out the meals. Have everyone seated,” he decides, knowing full well that his assigned table will be filled with people whose company he actually tolerates.


End file.
